


Not Even The Night

by Trawler



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Conflicted Robert, Growly Aaron, Light Spanking, M/M, OK Well Just A Tiny Plot, Porn Without Plot, hotel room, robron - Freeform, switch POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:12:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trawler/pseuds/Trawler
Summary: Robert's booked a hotel room for him and Aaron, so that they can continue their secret affair. There's only one snag - Robert can't stay the night, as he promised Chrissie that he'd meet her for dinner. Robert's determined to make the most of their limited time together.Chapter 1 from Aaron's point of view; Chapter 2 from Robert's. Set some time before Chrissie finds out.





	1. Aaron

“Took your sweet time, Aaron.”

“Traffic,” I grunted, deliberately knocking Robert’s shoulder as I entered the hotel room.

“It’s not like we’ve got all day –”

“Thought you’d be ‘appier to see me,” I interrupted, turning to glare as I dumped my bag on the floor. I was already half-hard, excitement warring with the fear that we’d get caught. “And yer did say this was an overnighter, right?”

“Change of plans.” His features smoothed, a familiar sign that meant he was lying – or had already lied. I’d seen it too much. “Couldn’t get away for the night, business meal I can’t get out of. Big client.”

“More like a meal with Chrissie.” I shook my head and grabbed my bag again, slinging it over my shoulder as I headed for the door. 

“Come on.” He blocked my way and reached out, a conciliatory look on his face. “Don’t be like that. We’re here now, isn’t that enough?”

I stepped out of his reach, looking at the floor, the walls, anywhere but his eyes. “I’m just sick and tired of always having to sneak around behind everyone’s backs, sick of all the lies you’re telling –”

“Hey, don’t push this back on me.” He put his hands on his hips. “You knew what you were getting into right from the start.”

Yeah. I had. But what he didn’t know – could never know – was that I’d fallen in love with him. It was so hard to keep my mouth shut through every secret meeting and whispered conversation. The lies, the veiled threats… this was messing with my head, I knew this was messing with my head, but every time Robert flashed that fucking smile I was lost.

“Yeah, alright, no need to keep banging on about it.” I kept my gaze fixed on the carpet. I knew that what we were doing was wrong; I’d thought I could handle the shame, thought I could handle how grubby I’d feel. Yeah, that’s right – loving him, and loving myself, were two completely different things. Robert was the cheating fiancé, but me? Carrying on with someone, when I knew that he was engaged?

Knew that I couldn’t stop?

“Alright, then,” he said. I finally looked up and saw his single nod. “Now put that bag down, and come and show me what I’ve been missing.”

My lips quirked in a lop-side smile. “Been missing it, ‘ave yer?” I let the bag drop, forgotten.

“You know I have.” His blue eyes burned, half-lidded in the way I knew was an invitation to fuck. I went from a semi to a full hard-on with just a look. I hated that he could turn me on so quickly, but it had always been like this.

I crossed the room in two hungry strides, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pushing him back against the door. His startled yelp was muffled, his hands reaching up to frame my face. I kissed him with all the desperate need I’d felt since the last time we’d been together, tongue eagerly sliding over his. I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth and bit down, hard enough to sting, hard enough to make him groan.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered. 

I pulled away, each breath rough, already pulling off my jacket. He pushed me over; I bounced onto my back. He climbed up over my body, urging me down as I tried to rise. His hands caged my head, mouth coming down in a rough, punishing kiss. 

“That’s for being late,” he growled, rubbing his nose against my beard. “Maybe I should spank you, make you more motivated.”

“Dirty bastard,” I gasped, groping almost blindly for some part, any part, of him to hold. My hands fisted in his jacket, yanking it off and briefly trapping his arms. I was going to let him take whatever he wanted – always had, was pretty sure I always would – but that didn’t mean that I had to make it easy. 

He paused, arms still restrained, mouth hovering over mine. His smooth, pale skin was flushed, lips already swollen.

“Yeah,” he said. “I _am_ a dirty bastard. And you love it when I am, so what does that make you?”

“Shut up and fuck me already,” I groaned, tilting my head back so that I could break the hold his eyes had over me. I let go of the jacket, putting my arms over my head. The pillows were cool against my heated skin.

“Not going to be that easy.” He finally shrugged out of the jacket, tossing it across the room. “I want to make the most of our time together.” He leaned forward and kissed me again, slow now but with deliberate purpose. Pushing past the flimsy walls I’d tried to build. 

His hands pushed my T-shirt up, lifting the black fabric over my chest. He bent his head, rubbing his cheek over my coarse chest hair, turning his face when he reached my nipples.

“I love all this hair,” he said, flicking his tongue over one already-hardened nub. I tensed, a spike of pleasure shooting straight to my cock. He loved nipple play and he wasn’t gentle. I didn’t want him to be.

He teased my nipple with his teeth, biting the flesh hard enough to leave an impression in the sensitive skin. His fingers worked the other, tugging, the pad of his thumb sliding across. I whined, keeping the sound locked between my teeth, knowing that it would do no good: - he knew what I wanted, what I liked, and wasn’t above using that knowledge to get what he wanted in bed.

But I knew something, too. It wasn’t all about what he wanted. I was being used… but the truth was that we were using each other. And if he got what he wanted, well, so would I.

He was taller than me but I was stockier, stronger – a lifetime of manual labour had given me muscles that he loved. I used that strength now to turn us, gripping his arms and rolling until he was on his back and I could straddle him. He struggled, mouth twisting in a sneer, but I had him. He was just as turned on as me; the hard, urgent press of his cock told me that, loud and clear.

He managed to get his arms free. I grabbed his flailing wrists and pinned them against the pillows, teeth barred, staring into his blazing eyes. Daring him to do something. He kissed me, wet lips mashing against wet lips, teeth clashing.

He bit my tongue.

“What the fuck d’you think yer doin’?” I growled, rearing back, tasting blood.

“This from the guy who’s got me pinned to the bed.” There was nothing but defiance in his blue eyes and I loved it, loved the way we were together.

I smirked despite the stinging pain. We both knew that he could break free if he really wanted, despite my strength. Testing the theory, I put his wrists together over his head and held them with one hand, never breaking eye contact.

He didn’t move, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest – coupled with the obvious way his trousers strained over his crotch – gave him away. I looked down, taking in his rumpled blonde hair and smooth, pale skin. He looked angelic until you saw the fiery energy in his eyes and the laughter lines around his full, plump mouth. It was a mouth made for kissing and fuck me, he was good.

I began to undo the buttons on his shirt with my free hand. My knuckles brushed against his stomach and then his ribcage. I loved the way he shivered. He would say or do anything to get what he wanted, but it was clear that he couldn’t control the way his body reacted. Whatever lies we told each other – whoever we hurt, whoever we damaged – I knew that this one truth would always be between us. The simple way we wanted each other.

With his chest finally exposed, I laid my palm flat against his stomach. My fingertips grazed along his flesh, following the line of his breastbone, paying attention to the goose-bumps that broke out across his skin. I leaned forward and captured his mouth, holding his chin in my hand, and finally kissed him the way I’d needed to for so long – slow and gentle, easing my tongue past his lips. Trying to tell him without words that I felt something more than lust, because to say the words out loud would be the quickest way to end what we had.

He was trembling when I finally pulled away. I regretted that kiss as soon as it was done, hoping that he was too distracted to get the message. To further distract him I let go of his wrists and scooted back, fingers fumbling at the zip of his designer trousers to expose black briefs. I yanked both down with greedy hands and as his cock sprang free and I dived for it, fingers closing around the base while I almost swallowed the rest.

He moaned, hands coming up to rest on the top of my head. I loved going down on him because of the power it gave me; when we were out of bed he lied, and when we were in it he cheated, but when I had him like this – spread out on his back with his cock in my mouth – there were no more lies. And he tasted so fucking good. I sucked him hard, lips moving fast up and down his length, messy tongue sliding over and around the head. The circle of my hand jerked in time with my mouth. Every sound he made, every time his fingers tightened in my hair, made me harder.

“Aaron…” His hips were bucking. I moved with him so that I didn’t choke. He was yanking my hair, making my scalp burn, but the pain just fed into my own arousal. “ _Aaron…!_ ” 

He tried to push me away but I wouldn’t let him. A few seconds later he came, hips arching off the bed, short nails digging into my scalp. The first splash of salty liquid across the back of my mouth made my cock throb and I swallowed it down. One last swipe of my tongue and I pulled back, sitting on my knees, hands braced on his shins.

I never got tired of the wrecked look on his face each time he came. It was the only genuine part of him; he couldn’t lie his way out of it, couldn’t pretend that it had never happened. It was real. 

“You never listen,” he panted, one arm covering his eyes. I watched the way his chest rose and fell, loving the hot red flush that covered his skin. He was a fantasy come true, spread out with his shirt open and his trousers almost around his knees.

“‘Ow about, ‘thank you, Aaron, for a bloody good blowjob?’”

“Don’t flatter yourself –”

I wasn’t having any of that. I lunged forward and knocked his arm away from his face, kissing him again. Punishing him. Shoving my tongue past his lips. My searching hand found one of his nipples and gave it a good pinch, making him gasp against my mouth. I added a twist for good measure and he yelped.

“Alright, alright!” His hands pushed against my chest. “That was good. More than good.”

I rolled onto my side to face him, arm bent, head braced on my hand. “That’s better.”

He sat up and kicked his shoes away, pulling his socks off and tossing them aside. His trousers and briefs went with them, closely followed by his shirt, until he was naked. The sight of him always left me breathless; he had a beautiful body, tall and lean, chest smooth and hairless, stomach flat. Seeing him like this always hit me hard; we rarely had time to get completely naked. There was something sad about that.

I hoped that I had the same effect on him.

“You know what this means, of course,” he said, settling himself beside me in a mirror pose. I was dressed and he wasn’t, but his confidence shifted the power between us.

“It means that I’ve got an aching jaw,” I said, grinning.

“It _means,_ ” and he leaned forward, bumping his head against my chest, “that the next time I come, it’s not going to be quick. When I get inside you I’m taking my time.”

I smirked. “Big words.”

“Big dick, more like.” 

I laughed and rolled onto my back, arms folded behind my head.

“Alright then, big man. Do your worst.”

“Oh, no.” He kissed my arm, lips lingering on my bicep. “I’m going to do my best.”


	2. Robert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After letting Aaron have his own way, Robert's determined to have his.
> 
> Robert's point of view.

Aaron had no idea how much I loved seeing that cocky smirk on his face. He was a dour bastard, all snarls and growls, and normally that was all it took to get me going. But increasingly over the last few weeks it was the rare smiles that had more of an affect.

Even though he was clothed and I was stark bollock naked, we both knew who was in charge. It was time to remind him of that. But I was in no hurry. 

“Remember when I offered you that spanking?” I said. This close, the light smell of his sweat filled my nose. I wanted to bury my face against his chest, his neck, and breathe him in. 

“You were just joking, right?”

“Do I look as if I’m joking?”

“Look, Rob, I’m not sure I’m into all that kinky shit…”

“You ever tried?”

He shook his head, sullen.

“There you go, then. How about we just try? You don’t like it, we stop. Just say the word.”

“You try this with Chrissie?”

“God, no.” I let out a snort of laughter. “She’s far too conventional.”

“And what about us?”

He was having doubts. I could see it in his eyes, the way they kept looking away from mine, the way his mouth tightened. I didn’t like his doubt. 

“What _about_ us?” I said. “We’re not conventional, I’ll grant you that. But we’re here to have fun.” I slid my hand beneath his T-shirt, feeling his heat sink into my skin. I was getting hard again. Just touching him – it was always enough to get me hard. “And I,” I pushed his T-shirt up, leaning across to kiss his belly, “am definitely,” another kiss, grazing my teeth over his ribs, “having fun.”

I felt his muscles rippling under my hand. I knew that I had him.

“Alright,” he said, sitting up. He leaned against the headboard, hands held loosely in his lap. “What – er – what do I ‘ave to do?”

“You can start by getting undressed. Don’t see why I should be the only one who’s naked around here.”

He stood and took his clothes off. He was anxious, his movements short and jerky. I didn’t like it when he was on edge like this; I knew that he could be unpredictable. But by the same token, having his submission… that was something that I wanted, badly, and if I had to push him to get it, well. That’s just the way it was going to be.

“I can’t decide if you want to fuck me or eat me,” he joked, his uncertain laugh falling into the silence.

“Pretty sure I can do both.” Yeah, so I was probably looking at him as if he was the biggest cake in the shop. But that’s because he was. Broad shoulders, dark hair covering his chest. Arrowing down over his stomach to a hard cock. More hair on his thighs and calves. Definitely edible.

My eyes flicked over the scars on his arms. They were impossible to miss and I knew exactly what they meant; I knew he’d had it bad in the past. Looking at those scars, I just wanted to hug him, and never mind the fact that he’d probably deck me if I tried.

But his nerves were growing every second I let him dangle. It was time to put him in his place. I scooted across the bed and stood up, crowding him, making him step back. 

“Face down on the bed,” I ordered. “Arms on the pillow. And don’t move.”

He wavered. For a second I thought he’d balk, but then his lips thinned and I knew that he’d do as he was told. I stepped aside and watched as he got into position.

“Arse up,” I said. “On your knees. Come on.”

“Rob…” He turned his head so that I could see half of his face. He was scarlet. Embarrassed, ashamed maybe. By the time we were done he’d still be scarlet, but not with shame. I didn’t want him to feel _ashamed_ to be with me. But I _did_ want to turn him into a panting, trembling wreck.

“It’s OK,” I soothed, trailing my fingers down his bare spine. He shivered. “You don’t like this, just speak up and we’ll stop. Promise.”

He turned his face back into the pillow… then shifted so that he was on his knees, arse in the air, head braced on his arms. God; what an incredible sight. I loved his arse. Plump and round, usually hidden beneath baggy jeans or overalls. I felt a possessive thrill knowing that I was the only man who was getting to see him like this. For however long our fling lasted, he was mine.

My hand lingered at the base of his spine, the other on his hip. I stroked my palm over one cheek. Then, without warning, I slapped him.

The sound of flesh on flesh rang through the room and he jerked forward, a startled noise clamped between his teeth. I smoothed my hand over where I’d slapped, soothing the sting, then spanked him again on the other cheek. This time he couldn’t stop his gasp.

I stopped after six slaps, rubbing his pink-flushed skin after each. I leaned over him, biting back a gasp of my own as my cock pressed against his back, and whispered in his ear.

“There,” I murmured. He was shivering. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was alright.”

“You didn’t tell me to stop.”

“Didn’t want you to.” 

“Good.” I smiled and kissed his cheek, wrapping my arms around his chest. “Maybe next time, you won’t be late.”

He turned his head and half-caught my mouth with his own. His kiss was fast, hard and desperate.

“Maybe I’ll be even later.”

My arms tightened, every possessive instinct I had telling me not to let him go, not even for the amount of time it would take to get my supplies out of my bag. I wanted him so badly it burned inside me, the need to make him _mine,_ to show him over and over again that he was mine –

“Are we talking or fucking?” he grunted.

I pulled back and gave him one last slap, enjoying the way he jerked.

“Oh, we’re fucking,” I growled. “Stay there.”

I crossed over to my bag and rummaged inside, pulling out a box of condoms and a small bottle of lube. When I came back he was watching me, dark eyes glittering with heat.

“You look so good like that,” I surprised myself by saying.

His eyebrows lifted, that single trademark lift and fall.

“Yer not so bad yerself.”

I grinned. “You say the sweetest things. Now shift forward.”

He moved, clearing space for me to climb up behind him. I knelt between his spread legs and now I was shivering, too. It wasn’t just excitement… though Christ knows, I was excited. It was Aaron. Being here. Seeing him like this. Knowing that he trusted me enough to let this happen. 

For a moment I hesitated. He was wrong to trust me, and I think I hated him for that. We both knew that I was getting married. Nothing could change that fact – yet here he was. And here I was, too, and the flash of hate passed. I couldn’t blame him for giving into his lust, because that’s what I was doing.

When he wriggled his arse and looked over his shoulder, I realised that I’d been thinking for too long. I grinned and reached for a condom, ripping open the packet and sliding it over my cock. I picked up and uncapped the bottle of lube, drizzling plenty of the clear liquid over my fingers.

The first touch against his hole made him twitch. I smeared the lube around before easing one slick digit inside him. He pressed his face into the pillow, but I still heard him groan. I added another finger, slowly working him open, drinking in each stifled sound. _I_ was doing this to him. _Me._

I pulled my fingers free and moved closer, lining up my cock. I pushed against him, deliberately slow. I felt him tense and saw muscles tightening across his shoulders; I watched him like a hawk as I pushed inside. I didn’t want to hurt him.

His heat enveloped me, tight and responsive and almost enough to make me lose my cool before we’d even really started. I gripped his hips, trying not to hold too tightly.

“Alright?” I asked.

“Yeah…” 

Fuck _me._ I didn’t think it was possible to get harder, but there it was – that husky moan when straight to my cock.

Still slow, letting him adjust, I set up an easy rhythm. I was fixated by the sweat glistening on his back, and struck by the sudden need to taste it. Still keeping each stroke slow, I slid my hands along his back and over his shoulders. Encouraging him with a tug to sit up.

He moved carefully, adjusting his weight onto his knees. I wrapped my arms around his chest and pushed deeper inside him; he threw his head back and groaned, a long, ragged sound that battered at my self-control. I needed to feel him against me; every part of him against every part of me. I buried my face in the crook between his shoulder and neck, inhaling the raw scent of sex and sweat. I kissed his shoulder, setting my teeth against his skin but not biting, flicking my tongue out and capturing the salty tang. It was my turn to moan and I fucked him harder, rough now, knowing that I was probably holding him too tight but not caring. If he didn’t complain it wasn’t a problem.

For all my boasting that I was going to take my time, I knew that I couldn’t. Spanking Aaron, earning his submission, had pushed me a lot closer to the edge than I’d realised. But I didn’t think that it would take much to make him come, either.

I wrapped my hand around his cock and stroked him. His startled cry echoed in my ear. He pushed against me, the back of his head on my shoulder, sweat-slick throat exposed. I rubbed my face over his skin, branding myself with his sweat, marking him with mine.

I tried to move my hand in time with my hips but I was coming undone, losing myself inside him, addicted to the blinding pleasure. Aaron came first – tensing against me, back arching, a yell stifled between his teeth. Arms curving behind him as his fingers scrabbled to find purchase on any part of me that he could find. He shot over the duvet and my hand, the sudden wet heat shocking and electrifying in equal measure.

Then I came, half-delirious, hips slamming against him. The world seemed to stop and I hung for a few single, breathless seconds, suspended on a precipice… and then I was falling, dragged down, pleasure roaring through my head and making every muscle in my body tight.

We came down together. Slowly. Rough breaths mingling. I kissed his shoulder again, then his cheek. He turned his head and I kissed the corner of his mouth. 

The clean-up was brief. I disposed of the condom and had a quick shower, while Aaron grabbed some toilet paper and cleaned up the mess he’d made on the bed. We dressed.

“I have to go,” I said, looking at my watch. I still had an hour until I was due to meet with Chrissie.

“Go on then.” That familiar scowl was back on his face. “Dinner with your _fiancé._ ‘Ow bloody perfect, you playin’ ‘appy families.”

It would be so easy to argue. He obviously felt like the injured party, while I wanted to remind him that this was just casual sex. But what I wanted more was for us to part on good terms. So I took his face in my hands and kissed him. I hadn’t meant to make it slow and sweet but it felt… right. When I pulled back, his eyes were wide and dazed.

“The room’s paid up for the night,” I said, turning to reach for my bag. I had to go – go _now_ – or I wouldn’t be able to leave at all. “Breakfast is included. Order what you want from room service, I’ll pay.”

I expected sullen silence or a barrage of abuse. What I didn’t expect was a weary sigh.

“You can’t throw money at everyone,” he said. 

Bag forgotten, I turned back and looked into his eyes. They were dark pools of want and need, and suddenly I couldn’t go. I’d blow off dinner with Chrissie, come up with some excuse and just stay here –

“Go on,” he said, jamming his hands into his pockets. “Get on with yer. Thanks for the room.”

I didn’t know what to say. There was nothing that I _could_ say that wouldn’t make me sound like a desperate idiot, so I settled on the expected.

“Until next time?”

“Aye. Next time.”

“Goodbye, Aaron.”


End file.
